Flirting Under a Full Moon - By Ashlyn Chase Page 0,67
forgot to tell you about my unusualness. Is that a word?”
“Oh nuts. What is it?”
“Don’t worry. It’s a good thing. My kind is very hard to kill. We don’t even stay injured for long.”
“Are you saying you’re immortal?”
“We’re not immortal, but we age very slowly.”
“So, that means you must be a lot older than you look.”
“Uh, yeah. You could say that.”
“So, am I dating a guy who could be my father’s age? My grandfather’s?”
“Try your great-grandfather’s. This year I turn one hundred and one.”
“Get out.”
“I’m not quite ready yet…I should at least get a kiss before I go.”
“No, I just meant it as an expression, like ‘get out of town.’”
“I’m about to.”
She rolled her eyes.
He chuckled. “I knew what you meant.” He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. When their lips separated, he tucked her head under his chin. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“When I get back, we’ll go to the museum.”
She grinned. “Really? You’d go with me?”
“Of course. You deserve a treat after today. I’m sorry ‘the crazy lady,’ as you called her, upset you. She really was in the right place—although I can’t tell you about her either.”
“Well, if you put it that way, maybe you can buy me lunch too.”
“Definitely.”
She tipped up her chin and he kissed her again. “I’ll see you in a couple days,” he said and left.
As soon as the door closed, a pale-looking Angie peered around the corner. “Is he gone?”
Startled, Brandee jumped. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard some…things.”
Uh-oh. “What things?”
“Things that will keep me from falling asleep—ever again.”
“Ange. You’d better come over here and sit down.”
Angie moved hesitantly, sat on the sofa, and folded her hands in her lap.
“What did you hear exactly?” Brandee asked.
“Something about Anthony being a vampire, brownies cleaning the bar, Ruxandra shoplifting, and your boyfriend being a werewolf.”
Brandee flopped onto the sofa next to her and blew out a deep breath. “So, basically the whole conversation.”
“Yeah.”
“How could you hear all of that from your bedroom?”
“I was on my way to the kitchen for a drink. You asked if Anthony was a vampire, and I remembered you said the crazy lady was talking about vampires, so—”
“So you stopped right there and listened to every word.”
“Brandee, how could I not? You wanted to know if we were in danger, so why wouldn’t I?”
Brandee covered Angie’s hands with hers. “Did you hear the part about how we’re safer at Boston Uncommon than at a normal bar?”
Angie withdrew her hand and began biting her nails.
“Stop that. You’ve been doing really well not biting your nails. Don’t start now. You’re almost ready for a manicure.”
“Why would I care about a manicure if I’m about to die?”
Brandee leaned back and studied her friend. Angie’s face reminded her of a child who had had a nightmare and needed to be assured there were no monsters under her bed. If only Angie were a child, Brandee could make up an antimonster spray.
“We’re not about to die. How long have we worked there? A year? If something bad was going to happen, wouldn’t it have happened by now?”
Angie shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Anthony was getting his blood from Ruxandra, but now that she’s out of the picture…”
“I need to talk to Anthony.”
Angie put her hand on Brandee’s knee. “Don’t bother. If he wanted us to know, he would have told us. And if he doesn’t want us to know, wouldn’t he just lie?”
“When has Anthony ever lied?”
“I don’t know, but come on. If you were a vampire, wouldn’t you lie about it?”
“I’m not even sure there are such things as vampires. Like I said, I need to talk to him before I assume anything. Do you believe they exist?”
“I saw a documentary about people who adopt the lifestyle. I’ve never seen Anthony during the day—ever. Claudia is always in charge when we open. Do you think he sleeps in a coffin?”
Brandee laughed. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been watching too many movies.”
“Hey, some of those people in the documentary did.”
“Well, so what if he does? It’s none of our business where he sleeps—or with whom, right? I thought you were as open-minded and tolerant as I was.”
“Was?”
“Am,” Brandee corrected. “I am.”
“I guess you must be, if your boyfriend is a werewolf. By the way, where did you get that purple bruise on your shoulder?”
Brandee immediately yanked up her blouse’s collar closer to her neck. “It’s nothing.”